


I Want It All

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Other, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys, Slight Implied OT5, Solo Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re in Milan, and before they are even done with their first night at San Siro, Harry knows he’ll need time after the show to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want It All

**Author's Note:**

> S and I discussed this a couple of nights ago because of [this NSFW video](http://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=1498156526) and I just had to give it a go. Big thanks to [V](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh) for the beta! Title from the Arctic Monkeys song by the same name because I listened to AM on repeat as I wrote. -p

Just like any of the lads, Harry needs a bit of alone time, sometimes. He loves sharing meals and workouts and the stage with the boys, loves a good cuddle (and sometimes more) on long drives between cities or on days off. He likes to spar with Liam, and to splash about in hotel pools with Niall, and to crawl into Louis’ bunk at night, and to find tiny record stores on the road with Zayn. However, every once in a while, after an arduous session on the treadmill or a particularly energetic show, he likes spending the remaining edge of adrenaline still left in him and then falling into bed exhausted and sated.

It’s no secret among the boys that Harry’s into toys. The boys are careful when they go through Harry’s overnighter, digging for a t-shirt or a pair of socks, after one too many instances of getting a handful of bumpy silicone. What Harry _does_ with his toys is more of a mystery.

They’re in Milan, and before they are even done with their first night at San Siro, Harry knows he’ll need time after the show to himself. As predicted, he’s twitchy and restless on the van back to the hotel, fingers tapping on his thigh, but it’s easy enough for the others to brush it off as just leftover energy from the show. They aren’t wrong, but they don’t know that’s all there is to Harry’s jitters, either.

Making sure to let Paul and the boys know that he’s having an early night, when he gets in, he takes a hot shower that leaves his skin pink and his dick half-hard. He dries off but doesn’t bother with clothes, pads back out into his room barefoot, a fresh towel draped over his shoulders, and digs through his bag, squatting with his bum resting on his heels. 

Once he’s got what he needs, he pulls the comforter down to the foot of the bed and spreads out the towel, just to keep the mess to a minimum, and stacks a couple of pillows against the headboard. He settles on his back at the center of the bed, head propped up on the fluffy pillows and legs spread. Then, he plants his feet on the mattress.

He limits himself to one toy on tour, especially when they’re abroad and have to go through security and customs.  For this leg, he brought one of his favorites: a nice-sized vibrator, not the biggest he can take but not one of the little ones he likes for easy quickies, either. It’s got a bit of a curve, like his own cock, and a blunt bulbed head, all the better to get at his prostate. 

He gives his cock a few slow tugs, dragging his foreskin up and back down with his fingertips just to get himself completely hard. He doesn’t touch the head, not even when it gets slick and shiny with precome. Just when he starts shifting his hips up into the touch, though, he stops, fisting his hands and taking a few steadying breaths through his nose. Then he grabs the lube he left at the side of the bed, squirts a little onto one hand, and uses it to coat two fingers on the other.

He reaches between his legs and rubs his fingertips from his arsehole up to his taint and back down.  Shivers.  Smiles to himself. Harry always likes to take his time with this, even if he’s impatient, even if he just wants to get a hand around his dick or roll over and rut off against the bed--that wouldn’t be nearly as fun, nearly as much of a challenge.

The fingers aren’t completely necessary, but they’re a nice bit of preparation, of buildup. He eases one in first and adds the second after a moment, twisting and curling them, pushing in deep and almost all the way out. He cups his balls with his free hand, rolls them against his palm as he angles his fingers up inside. He can’t get at his prostate too well like this, even though his fingers are long, but it still feels good, a tease at what’s to come once he gets his toy in.

Harry presses the heel of his palm down on his balls as he slides his fingers out.  He huffs out a shallow breath, a little wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. He slicks his toy, hips rolling up unconsciously, and flicks it on to tease himself a little more, pressing the tip beneath his balls. He finally lets it slide down to his hole, pressing just enough that he stretches a little around the tip, and exhales on a low groan. It’ll be too much if he pushes it in while it’s on, though, so he flicks it back off and slides it halfway in one go, moaning, eyes falling closed.

He leaves the toy in for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, and then slides it almost all the way out before angling it in deep. The head drags against his prostate and his prick twitches on his stomach, a whine escaping his lips. He thrusts the toy in and out of himself slowly, his free hand idling on his balls, fingertips barely brushing the base of his cock. This part’s always good, and even better when he clicks the toy on as he’s sliding it in. The buzzing punches the breath out of his lungs.

When he tips his chin down against his chest, the sight of his dick, swollen red and dark at the head, makes him huff a laugh; it took him a while to train himself not to cave and touch himself at this point, but he’s not about to ruin this for himself now, not when the whole point is _not_ to chase an orgasm. It doesn’t take long for that familiar twist, warm and heady, to coil in his belly. The feeling is essentially the same as when he has a boring old wank, really, except the most action his cock is and will be getting is a gentle press of fingertips as he massages his prostate with the vibrator. 

He knocks the vibrations up a notch and gasps, squeezes his balls--and this is where it diverts from the same arousal he would feel if he were wanking, because a fat drop of come bubbles up at his slit and drips down his cockhead and into the hair below his navel, but he isn’t _coming_. He counts breaths in his head and twists the toy inside himself, rubs it in circles over his prostate and a few more dribbles follow the first, collecting on his tense belly.

Once he’s gotten started it’s easy to keep going, dragging the toy up and down over the same spot, knuckling at the base of his dick. His cockhead keeps getting darker, a deep red that makes the white of his come stand out even more. He flicks his wrist and chews on his lip and almost kicks out as a thick spurt dribbles sticky down his cockhead.

He doesn’t notice his hands are shaking until the jitters make him press down on the base of his dick a bit harder than intended, but he just chases the feeling with a hard nudge of the vibrator up against his prostate. He’s spilling without pause now, drops turning into spurts. He shifts the vibe in and out even though he’s clenching around it, the friction almost too hot. Harry wonders for a moment what it’d be like to do this with someone watching.  Put on a show for the lads or simply leaving his door unlocked. 

For now, he’s plenty happy having this all to himself.

Eventually the vibe becomes too much, and he turns it off one last time, fucks himself nice and deep with just the toy, takes it all the way down to the base and back until it almost pops out of his stretched hole. There’s an absolute _mess_ on his stomach, making his dick stick to his skin, and he leaves the toy in--just deep enough that he won’t have to deal with the empty feeling just yet, but enough that it’s not distracting--as he takes his cock between his thumb and forefinger. He slides his foreskin up over the reddened head, squeezing the last of his come out, and then lets his hand fall to his side, stares up at the ceiling with a mellow smile on his lips.

Sometimes he likes going to sleep sticky (which, granted, isn’t as fun or sexy when it’s his own spunk rather than someone else’s) and then showering again in the morning, but this time he’s got just enough energy to slide his toy out gently and sit up slowly, trying to slow down his breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears and his chest. He wipes the worst of the come off himself with the towel, mindful of his sensitive dick, and pads to the bathroom on wobbly Bambi legs, bringing the towel and his toy along.

The towel ends up balled up in the corner against the tub, and he cleans off his tummy with a wet flannel, uses a bit of the hotel soap to wash off his vibe. When he looks up at himself in the mirror he’s still flushed across his cheeks and halfway down his chest, colouring his bird tattoos pink. Then he feels a bit silly for just staring at himself in the mirror so he looks away, dries off his toy with a goofy smile on his face. He brushes his teeth, for good measure, yawning around a mouthful of foam and wondering what sex toys would think, if they _could_ think.

Harry almost drags his feet on his way back out into the room, yawns again as he puts his toy and his lube safely away in his overnighter. He crawls into bed, grabs his phone from the nightstand to make sure he’s set his alarm--he wants to hit the gym in the morning, do a bit of lifting, maybe--and pulls the covers up over himself, curls up on his side with his arm swung over a pillow and his chin tucked down into his chest, exhausted and happy.

 


End file.
